


Things Have Changed

by sunflowersinners



Category: Panic! at the Disco, beebo - Fandom, brendon urie - Fandom, emo trinity - Fandom
Genre: A fever you can't sweat out, Angst, Brendon Urie - Freeform, Comedy, Dom Brendon Urie, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Undertones, Emo Trinity, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Funny, Indianapolis, Lemon, Light Angst, Light Dom/sub, Light Masochism, Light Sadism, Lime, Panic, Panic at the Disco - Freeform, Panic! at the Disco - Freeform, Ryan Ross - Freeform, Sassy Brendon Urie, Satire, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, brendon x reader - Freeform, dom brendon/sub reader, old panic, patd - Freeform, pretty odd
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-27 03:41:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19782511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflowersinners/pseuds/sunflowersinners
Summary: When a self aware OC (simply known as The OC) gets caught in a fanfiction from 2008 and realizes that the only way to get out is to live out the whole work, she starts to question her life, her friends, her loves and her own sanity. Her favorite musician is talking like an old romantic, she's been whitewashed, and there's emo music everywhere. Can she get out? Or will she find a happy ending with the band she loves?





	1. Chapter 1: Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! this first chapter is rough because a lot of world building had to happen. as more dialogue gets to be laid down it will be a lot more the tone that I hope to show throughout! don't worry - it should be a fun mix of modern fanfiction and campy, old style fluffy writing! I hope you enjoy! Also, let me know once you catch on to the chapter title themes!
> 
> Nov 1 2019: hey guys! I have a Ko.fi page now! If you want to support me with a coffee ill mention your @ for any social media page in the A/N of your favorite story! remember to leave it in the messages section of the tip feature on the website! Here's my link: 
> 
> https://ko-fi.com/sunflowersinners

I’m not sure how I got here. I mean, I’m in my room. But it’s - not My Room™ . It’s my old room. The way it used to be decorated years ago. My room was messier, though. This is the kind of messy somebody who has never been depressed would think is messy. Maybe one or two piles of clothes, and some paper on the desk. But I guess some people would call it a mess. But I can’t just sit in bed all day. If something’s different I need to figure out how, and if I’ve got work to do then I should probably get it done.  
As I walk over to the mirror, I notice another thing. Well, I think a few things have changed about me. My hairs lightened up to, like, a lighter brown? And it's messy. My skin is paler, my acne is gone. And people are actually texting me? My phone is blowing up. That’s never happened before. It’s not - This is not my phone. This is a blackberry. God, what year is this?  
Wait - what year is this?  
I think I’m starting to figure out the only possible solution to the situation I’m caught in. Deadpool style - I’m stuck in the kind of fanfiction I would have read when I was like, thirteenteen, and just starting to want to fuck band members. This has to be old.   
Yeah, messy brown hair. Light skin. Sixteen still, I guess. But - how old would I have been? Like, five?  
Holy shit. This fanfiction was written in 2008.  
I’m assuming nothing progresses until I leave my room, and I might as well embrace it as much as I can. So, why not dress for the part? I’m the OC. I’m guessing to get out of here I just need to get through the book, right? Easy. I consumed a thousand of these when I was a kid. What do I need to wear? A denim miniskirt (have I ever even seen one of these in real life before? I’m not sure) and - fuck it - an MCR hoodie. Because weather doesn’t exist. Black leggings. Converse hi-tops.   
The door! I didn’t even see it before. This is like a video-game. Things are just appearing out of nowhere as I pick the right things to progress on through. Okay. So, Let’s speed run it until we get to the good shit, skip the slash chapters, and be out of here in no time.   
OoOooOokay - it’s not letting me leave yet. What am I missing? Phone, backpack, I-   
Oh my god - my diary!  
Under the pillow, there it is. The small, leather book I used to scrawl in at all times. It’s blank, though, when I open it - except for the front page.   
“Chapter One: Introduction”  
Okay, Okay! So it’s telling me what chapter I’m on. It seems like this is something to keep on me. It might be a good place to keep track of things, the choices I made, and what chapter I’m on. This is useful. Now we can leave. We’re moving on to the next page. Metaphorically - obviously the fic probably never had a physical format. But anyways. Scene two.  
The kitchen doesn’t seem to provide many more answers than my room did. If this is a game, I kinda wish it hadn’t skipped the tutorial for me. I feel like I’m missing out on some useful stuff here. But I am starving, and honestly eating is always my priority, so I’m doing that first. I can figure out how this phone works while my toaster waffles heat up. I think my mom used to use one of these. I’m sure it can’t be that hard. Wait - where are my parents? Are there no parents here? Anywhere? Okay then. That kind of makes things more convenient for everyone involved. There should be iphones now though, right? They’re probably still shit, but at least I’ll know how to remotely use it. I’ll just take some cash from my absentee guardians room and go get one set up. Solutions! I’ll take the blackberry and use that number - so I can figure out who these people are too. At least there’s an Apple store in Indianapolis. There’s a lot here. Most of it hopefully is still here 11 years ago. Is that grammatically correct? I don’t care. I’m using my dad’s car.  
Fuck! My waffles! I’m taking those too.   
I Write Sins has played twice now on the ten minute drive to the mall. Shit, I guess it really is 2008. Not that I mind, I mean, Panic is still my favorite band in 2019. But I can’t get distracted by their spike of emo popularity that’s probably gonna fade away after their Pretty Odd tour is done. That tour, has it happened yet?  
Funny enough, I think this radio announcer might have the answers im looking for. I just hope he’s well written.  
“Alright, now before we start up those sweet tunes again, I just want to remind everyone about the contest we’re holding for one front row seat to the Indianapolis stop of the Pretty Odd tour. Just you, and all your favorite band members! Call now for your chance to win!”  
Convenient. I guess I should do that. But I don’t have the right phone yet - shit! Do I need to work this old thing? Okay, okay. It’s just a phone. I do my best to punch in the numbers for the radio station. This should be easy! I can’t be this reliant on modern technology, can I? I finally get the call, but the announcers already on the phone with his radio winner. I didn’t get the ticket. Damn. One things for sure. I have to get into that concert. But - how?   
I can’t focus on that now. I just need to focus on spending copious amounts of someone else’s money in a mall that may not have been built in 2008 yet. For convenience, let’s say it has been.   
I already know where the Apple store used to be, and it’s relatively easy to get my new phone set up and traded out. At least now I have a useable connection to other people. The iPhone 3g. It didn’t even have siri yet. But it had apps and games and could send texts and make calls. Perfect. I put it in my backpack by the diary. I’ve still got a seemingly infinite source of funds, so I decided to walk around a bit. For some reason - I’m blanking on where the exit is. Either time is not being kind to me, or I’ll conveniently remember once I’ve done everything I have to do in this location. I’m guessing the latter. No big - I could use some more things to get through this weird parallel hell verse anyways. I grab some makeup at Sephora, hair things at the old limited too, and I could have sworn there was never a hot topic in this mall, but I’m absolutely standing in front of one right now. So I go in. Why not?  
Inside, it looks like an old hot topic. Like, a good one. Before pop culture took half the space up. I probably don’t look emo even a tiny bit, but I feel it in my core so it counts. I figure a few things for my closet, my room, and for the concert wouldn’t hurt. Posters, chokers, rings and things. I glance longingly at the hair dye before grabbing some black nail polish and heading up towards the counter. This should be plenty. I pay and get my things feeling rather proud of myself for such a productive trip, when I realize that I still can’t remember where the exit is! Is there something I’m not getting from the mall? Someone I haven’t talked to? This sucks. Being trapped in a story and not knowing how to progress unless you live out the poorly written tropes right sucks. I have no way to get to the concert, and no clue who anybody is. Literally nothing could make this worth it.   
Not even looking where I’m going, I start off out of the Hot Topic in a pit of self misery. Typically I would think that was just the effect of a Hot Topic on someone, but right now I think I’m just pissed. I can hardly stand to do anything but stare at the floor and drag my feet on the way out. Unsurprisingly, as I’m almost out of the store, this causes me to crash into someone. I would have fallen back ever so gracefully onto my ass if they hadn’t caught me in their arms and held on tight. The strong scent of cologne is all I have to go off of until my hair is out of my face, but quite frankly I’m too shaken up to move. The stranger who caught me keeps an arm around me and uses another to brush the hair aside with a concerned expression.   
“Are - Are you okay?”  
“Yeah… I’m fine. I’m. You’re…”  
Okay, so THIS is why I couldn’t leave yet.   
“Shhh. don’t worry about it. You look pretty shaken up. Here, walk back with me, yeah? I’m Brendon. It’s nice to meet you.”  
Oh so he’s shushing and talking like a Disney Prince™. Got it.  
“O-okay.” I nodded and walked along, trying to play the part. He took me back to his tour bus where all the other members of Panic - old Panic! - were waiting. He guided me inside and closed the door. So this is cool I’m about to get kidnapped for sure.   
“Sit tight.” Brendon said. Haha. lyrics. “We’re actually running late, but I wanted to make sure you were okay. You’ll have to come with.”  
“Did you buy a girl?” Ryan chimed in jokingly, not seeming to actually care if I had a house or an agenda or anywhere to be at all.   
“It’s a long ride to the stadium.” Brendon said, ignoring Ryan and moving the plot along. “Say, you wouldn’t mind a backstage pass to our concert, would you?”  
“The bus is already moving. I’m not sure I have a choice.”  
Everybody laughed. I wasn’t joking. But here we were. And here I was with the entire old band Panic!. It was surreal. I would probably do unholy things with one or more of them before I got out of here. But - If this has a happy ending with a band member I love - would I really want to leave at all?


	2. Chapter 2: The Only Difference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When a tour bus stop goes longer than expected, The OC sees a newer, darker side of Brendon that surely shouldn't have been shown until much, much later in the story. Very lime-y (sorry to use that term in this good year of 2019) and VERy dom-y brendon. haha BrenDom. and Brendere. A bit of fluff in between. Also some quality The Bois tm time with RyRo and Spence. Something for everyone here! not any slash... yet. Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya! Please read the summary for a heads up and warnings about ratings and such, haha. This is the longest chapter I've ever written at over two thousand and five hundred words! wow! I hope you like it! remember to share it all around and leave kudos! send the link to your stan friends! Have a book club for it. New chapters sporadically and unpredictably!

If anybody is reading this, I’m realizing that at this point I still haven’t said my name. I don’t think the old writer used it very much, so that excited teens could pretend the band members were talking to them as much as they could. Vague descriptions and barely any names being used help to supply for that sort of thing. So, I guess it doesn’t really matter what my name is. I suppose I’m just the OC. I’m you.

You all probably know everyone else in the old fic by now, I’m still stuck on a bus with the only people I’ve gotten to interact with yet. I guess time has stopped for this exposition. But, nothing will happen if nothing is ever done. So I guess things are up to the OC to do. I check my diary. Under Chapter One is a new one. Chapter 2: The Only Difference. Great! I’m moving on up. How many can there possibly be? 

I put the diary away for now and focused again on the boys. My boys. My fake reality matrix pals. And Brendon.The bus was crowded, I was actually still standing up and holding onto a shelf to keep from falling over. There were, fair enough, only enough seats for the band. I’m sure it wasn’t designed for yeeting girls off the streets.  
Shit! People don’t say yeet yet. If I don’t filter myself on slang, things will get weird. That'll be another thing to look out for.   
“Really letting this pretty little thing stand, Brendon? For shame.” Jon joked jokingly, prompting Brendon to stand and pull me down back onto his chair with him.   
I am not a thing. Also? What the fuck. Well...I actually don’t think that I mind sitting in Brendon Urie’s lap that much.   
So I won’t pipe up about it, but, in order to progress I don’t think I can be very oppositional about much of anything that goes on anyways.   
But, what happens if I do fight back? Now I’m kind of curious. I literally might try that, just to see what happens. I shift a bit and try to pull out of Brendon’s lap, he pulls me back in and tightens his grip without saying a word, continuing his conversation   
“We’re almost there, love, no need to fidget” he whispers, trailing his fingers on my neck. I swallow hard and try to fight the blush on my face. Obviously he can see it.   
“Cute” he remarks, smirking and moving his arms right back around me.   
“Ryan- how much longer?”   
“About an hour”   
“Is the changing room open?”  
“Yeah, probably. Jon! Spencer! Is anyone back there? Nah. It’s open”  
The only difference I’ve noticed so far is the way people talk. It’s more formal, in a way, and more romanticized than normal speech. I miss slang. I’m sure as the story progresses I’ll see plenty more things different from the real world, namely, probably as I develop friendships and relationships. For now, all I can see is the way people talk, move, and act like renaissance men even though it’s still the 00’s for them. God, I wish it was 2019.   
“Perfect. Can you come with me back there for a second, dove?”  
What?  
“What? I mean…”  
Now was my chance!   
“....no….”  
The whole band looked at me like I was insane. Brendon simply laughed, pulled me up by the arm with him, and off to the crowded closet they called the changing room.   
The second the door was closed, he had me up against it. An eyebrow raised, hands at either side of my head, lips….. very close.   
“No?” He mocked with a chuckle  
“That was cute. Once.”  
Holy shit. It’s chapter two! We can’t be getting to this already. No, but it is picking up speed. Maybe it’s just a glitch because I fucked up. He’s definitely freaking out, which was very 2008 Wattpad of him. I tilt my head down and stare at the floor, hiding my rosy cheeks again.  
“Look at me when I speak to you, doll.” He growled, taking a hand now and grabbing my chin. I couldn’t help but whimper. He smirked.   
“Better. You’re hanging out with Panic at the Disco. If you behave…”  
He looked me up and down  
“You might be in the press for more than that. Do you understand?”  
I nodded, looking him in the eye now.   
“Good girl.” He smirked, tapping my nose before pulling away and opening the door.   
“Pretend I just made a joke” he whispered as he walked out, now smiling and laughing lightheartedly. I laughed too, unsure of what else to do. He sat and looked at me expectantly.  
“Well? Why don’t you sit?”   
Once again, I was the only one standing. I walked over to Ryan, nodded, and sat in his lap. His eyes widened, but he grinned playfully and put an arm around my shoulder. He and everyone laughed, except for Brendon.  
“Of course I’ll sit! Thank you for the offer.”  
He was turning red! Oh god, if I did anymore he would turn into the letters he was created from. Now that would be a sight to see.

“Now.” he snarled. I tried to get up then, out of fear, but Ryan held on.  
“Give the girl a break! Damn, Bren, just sit back and relax.”

Oh my God, when did panic break up again? 

It was 2009. We probably already have some tensions. And I’ll have to not say a thing about it. I looked between the two of them expectantly. RyRo had a playful smirk on his face, while Brendon just seemed to start to fume. 

“Really, I think-” I started, but Jon thankfully interrupted the calamity. Calamity? I might be starting to mold into this world with how I talk, too.  
“It doesn’t matter either way, you three, because we have to make a quick stop for gas. Everybody out.”

Ryan reluctantly let go and Brendan rushed to my side, putting a hand on my lower back and leading - no - pushing me out of the bus. Damn! He needed a serious chill pill. He almost looked upset, like, sad. It was confusing. Hopefully soon he’d come back to the sweeter boy who caught my fall in the mall. Or maybe that was just an act…  
While the rest of the boys stocked up on junk food and sodas and maybe some less mentionable things at the drug store by the gas station, Brendon found a small seating area in front of a nicer looking restaurant across the street and led me to it. 

“I figure it’ll be ten, twenty minutes before they’re ready to go.” he said offhandedly, as almost an excuse for why we could go to the nicer spot.  
“Pretty things shouldn’t have to sit in squalor for so long.”  
“I’m not a thing, you know. And, really, I’m not that pretty either.”  
He laughed.

“Sure, to both. If you insist. But I think you’re beautiful. You have the prettiest, softest skin…delicate hands… these beautiful orbs”  
“I what”  
“Your eyes! They’re gorgeous”  
Oh. You know, I truly had forgotten about that era where everyone thought they needed synonyms for eyes.   
“Oh…”  
He pushed the sleeves up on his jacket and cupped my cheek in his hand. I didn’t back away. He leaned in closely.

“Soft, beautiful lips…” he murmured, pulling in closer…  
And then it started pouring down rain. Out of nowhere! And I was almost starting to… fall… no. I can’t fall for him! I just have to live this story out and get home.   
Instinctively, He threw off his jacket and wrapped it around me, pulling me in close. I almost didn’t mind. We hurried into the restaurant quickly, now soaking wet. He looked horrified, worried about me until I laughed, then he laughed, and then we were both laughing until some stuffy Frenchmen working at the restaurant glared at us.  
“You can’t stay inside here unless you will be dining here.” he spat.  
Brendon quickly checked his texts. The concert was outdoors, and cancelled because of the rain. What a shame. 

“I suppose we’ll be dining here.”  
The man laughed gregariously.  
“Idiot teen! This place is booked out for months.”  
“Really? It doesn’t look that nice.” He replied with a smirk. I stifled a giggle and buried my head in his chest. He grinned at that.   
“I’m sure I could easily find a way in, don’t you worry.” he told the man, turning to a couple walking in.  
“Do you two have a reservation!” He asked them, a loud charisma about him.  
“Y-yes?” one of the women replied. He took out his wallet, and gave them half of the contents.

“Could you be convinced to no longer have that reservation?” he asked now, a sly smile spreading across his face. They walked out with the cash. Brendon turned to the man.  
“I believe a table just opened up?” 

The Frenchman snarled and reluctantly sat us at the smallest table he could find. The place was actually incredibly nice. I felt vastly underdressed. And cold, despite wearing Brendon’s jacket still. I shivered, and he placed a hand on my thigh. I did feel warmer because of it, so I didn’t complain. He smiled kindly. 

“You look beautiful in the candlelight. Of course, you look beautiful in every light.”  
I didn’t respond, a mistake on my part. While I was distracted he gently tipped the candle and put a slight drop of hot wax on my hand.  
“Don’t scream. Just reply when I speak to you.”  
I nodded.

“Better; still, I know we could get along great! If you’d just do what you’re supposed to.”  
What I’m supposed to? I really should just stick to the fangirl mold here, shouldn’t I? Maybe for dinner I will, he really can’t be THAT bad when he’s not hurting you for attention. I looked into his eyes and sighed, resting a hand on the one he had laid on my thigh. He smiled, somewhat pleasantly surprised, and took my hand gently.   
“Your hands are so cold, doll.” He remarked with a worried look. “We’ll have to get you mittens.” He laughed, and held the menu with one hand. 

After bribing the bartender, we both had wine at his insistence, though I had been reluctant. At sixteen, I obviously wasn’t the alcohol type despite the depression. Always figured I’d wait till I was older, I guess this can be an exception. Never having drank might make me far, far more of a lightweight than he was. I’m sure he was aware. He urged me to have another glass as our food came, while he stuck to one and switched to water as we ate, but I was fine with it. Everything felt so fuzzy and nice. Everytime he made a remark, I giggled, and he smiled. Or was it a smirk? People smirk so much in these books. Soon enough, we paid for our meals and left, his arm tightly around me, leading the way back to the bus. It was still pouring rain. 

There were actually two buses now. Apparently, it’s not “legal” or “safe” to not have a seat belt for everyone riding, and the driver had to call in a second tour bus. It was probably the same on the outside, pretty nice. Brendon and I claimed it, going inside. The only difference seemed to be that instead of four bunks, there was one large bed. Fuck. One bed? That’s actually the oldest trope in the fanfic book. But, okay. 

“Good thing I’m not here with Ryan. The boys would start saying things.” he joked. Spencer brought a bag of some of Brendons things, and looked at me dumbfounded.

“I have to say, we really tried, but we have nothing for you here.”  
“She can wear some of my clothes until we can buy her some.” Brendon chimed in, trying to hide his pleased grin. Okay, so I’m officially not going home anytime soon. At least I have a lot of things of mine that I really like in my backpack. RyRo brought it in and tossed it on the bed before noticing its singularity, looking between the two of us, and walking slowly off the bus. Then, it was just brendon and me. He had gotten one of his T-shirts and pairs of fleece pajama pants out to give to me for pajamas. 

“Go, change.” he said, uninterested as he pulled some blankets off the bed. Weird. I went off anyways to change, mentally bracing the whole time to share a bed with Brendon.  
When I got back, he had a few of the blankets and a pillow on the floor, and he was lying down with them, now changed too.  
“What are you-”  
“Well, there’s only one bed. And as much as I’d love to share it with you, angel, I didn’t think you’d like that so much. So I’ll take the floor.”  
Wow. That’s actually incredibly nice.   
“Brendon, that’s”  
“I know, I know, don’t get used to it.”  
“I mean it’s not necessary. I’ll sleep on the floor, you can have the bed. Seriously.”  
It was the least I could do after that gesture.   
“What? No. I’ll sleep on the floor.”  
“Well, now I’m sleeping on the floor either way so either you take the bed or it’s empty.”

He grumbled and tried to hide his smile. “Brat.” he muttered quickly as he got up and threw himself onto the bed. I smirked, pleased with myself, and took his place on the floor. The pillow still kind of smelled like him. It was nice. I guess. Not that I liked how he smelled or anything. 

Please. 

It had been maybe forty five minutes, and I still couldn’t sleep at all. I tossed and turned, but it was either freezing or too hot. The floor was hard as a rock. I couldn’t do this. I stood quietly and looked at the bed. Perfect, it looks like he’s asleep. Slowly, carefully, I slid under the covers and into bed. It felt so nice. The second I closed my eyes I felt two strong arms wrap gently around me and pull me in. Brendon breathed into my hair and let out a chuckle. 

“I knew you’d give up eventually.” he said with an almost audible grin. I grumbled playfully and took over most his pillow, trying to get some damn sleep.  
“Goodnight, Brendon.”  
“Goodnight, Princess.”  
He placed a small kiss on my forehead. It almost felt like my heart leapt out of my chest, but I contained it save for a smile that I covered for by burying my head into the pillow. I pretended to fall asleep quickly, but it took a long time for me to fall asleep that night. Once he thought I was asleep, I could barely hear Brendon say something to me as he held me.

“Soon, Angel” he started  
“Soon I’ll make you feel the same for me too. Just you wait”  
A shiver ran down my spine. But, before I could even think about what he said, I was asleep.


End file.
